


Scared Pantless

by dramionelurver



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M, Hogwarts Era, Hogwarts Sixth Year, Nudity, Unresolved Sexual Tension, very brief - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-28
Updated: 2017-10-28
Packaged: 2019-01-25 17:52:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12537760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dramionelurver/pseuds/dramionelurver
Summary: Hermione is scheduled to patrol with Ron. Unfortunately, he forgot, so she has to find a new patrolling partner. At the last possible minute. On Halloween.





	Scared Pantless

**Author's Note:**

> Cross-posted on FFN. A little something in honor of the upcoming holiday... I really tried to make more happen, but the characters were fighting me on this and stayed terribly canon compliant. *sigh*

            “Ohhhhhh,” Ron groaned, leaning backwards in his seat as he held his stomach. “That was so good, but I think I ate too much.”

            “You think?” Harry teased, even he rubbed his own protesting middle. “Though it was worth it.”

            “I don’t understand how feeling so miserable can be rewarding,” Hermione huffed, having restrained herself from indulging in all the delicious dishes provided during the Halloween Feast. Unlike the boy sitting next to her (and the red-headed one sitting next to him), she didn’t enjoy stuffing herself to the point of misery.

            Plus, she was still a tad upset with Ron.

            Not that he noticed, the thick git.

            “It’s not misery,” Harry objected lightly. “We got to taste all of that delicious food…”

            “Yes, well, I still have my doubts as to whether you actually do taste the food you shove down your throats,” Hermione remarked sarcastically.

            “Mhmm, I sure do, and it was bloody fabulous,” Ron declared.

            “Somehow I doubt you’ll be saying that in a couple of hours when we’re patrolling,” Hermione commented darkly as she took a sip of Pumpkin Juice, missing the way Ron’s eyes widened with fear before collapsing into disappointment. He swore loudly.

            “Ronald Weasley!” Hermione scolded sternly. “There are first years around!”

            “I completely forgot about patrol tonight,” the ginger-haired boy admitted sheepishly.

            “I figured as much,” his prefect partner mumbled with a sad sort of sigh. As furious as she was with the boy, sometimes she really just wished he would realize why she was upset.

            “But Hermione…” Ron whined pathetically.

            “You still have to do it, Ron! It’s your duty as a prefect,” Hermione insisted, glaring at him with a hardened gaze, perhaps too hardened to just portray the vitality of performing prefect duties.

            “Can’t you just skip it for one night?” Harry suggested, hoping against all odds that his responsible friend would go along with the idea. He didn’t think it would be best for either of his friends or their friendship with each other for the two of them to be roaming the halls alone tonight.

            “Of course not!” she responded, as expected. When Harry shrugged his shoulders at Ron, the other boy simply frowned and wrinkled his nose. He knew his friend had tried, but there was no going against the rules with Hermione Granger. Except during those very rare occasions where she broke major rules along with them, but they seemed to be saved for special occasions. On a day to day basis, Hermione the bookworm played strictly by the letter of the law.

            “Especially on Halloween!” she continued, breaking into a rant. “Do you know how many students will be out creating mischief tonight? Or having parties? Or pulling pranks? I don’t know whether it’s a good thing or a bad thing that those brothers of yours won’t be here. Someone might try to do something nasty just to pay homage or somethi—”

            “Yes, yes, we get it,” Ron interjected with a wave of his hand and roll of his eyes. “Halloween night means horrible kids that will burn down the school if you’re not there to stop them.”

            “It’s not funny, Ronald,” Hermione retorted through gritted teeth. Swiftly, she stood up. “You know what, just go back to the Common Room. I’ll find someone _else_ to patrol with.”

            With that, she stomped away, ignoring Harry’s singular call of her name.

            Good riddance to Ronald Weasley.

            “Who needs him anyway?” Hermione murmured to herself as she twisted through the hallways to the nearest girl’s bathroom. “Certainly not me. Let Lavender have him. I most definitely do not care! Not even one little bit!”

            Didn’t she sound convincing?

            Reaching the bathroom, Hermione shoved open the door and retreated inside, resting her hands on the sink as she forced herself to breathe deeply. She could do this. She could, she could. She wasn’t lying to herself, no, she wasn’t.

            “Great,” she muttered to the reflection looking back on her, to the girl who looked so tired and ready to fall into bed and sleep away her life. “Now I have to find someone to patrol with me.”

            Straightening her back, squaring her shoulders, Hermione turned on the faucet and nodded at that weary girl. Already, she looked more confident. Dipping her hand in the cold water, she washed the area beneath her eyes to force herself to wake up. After drying her face and hand with one of the enchanted towels that remained forever dry, she strolled from the bathroom determined to do what she must.

            Arriving back at the Great Hall, one peek revealed – to her relief – that Harry and Ron had left sometime during her absence.  Another glance found her target: Hannah Abbot. Although she and Hannah didn’t talk very often, Hermione was rather fond of the Hufflepuff girl. She was gentle and kind to most everyone, but not annoyingly so. The two of them had partnered for patrols multiple times in the past when one or both of their male counterparts somehow couldn’t make it. Despite the fact that prefects typically patrolled in pairs of boys and girls, Hermione and Hannah both felt safe with each other, even when their schedules took them to the darker and more dangerous parts of the castle.

            “Hannah,” Hermione greeted with a pleasantly genuine smile.

            “Hermione!” the blonde girl responded with her usual grin. “Happy Halloween! Did you enjoy the Feast?”

            “Yes, of course,” the Gryffindor replied politely, marveling at the way the Hufflepuffs were still celebrating.

            “Sure you ate enough?” the other girl teased. She laughed, forcing Hermione to laugh as well to avoid the dreaded awkwardness.

            “Hey, Hannah, are you doing anything tonight?” Hermione questioned, anxious to get to the point.

            “Heard about the party, did you?” Hannah responded with a mischievous twinkle in her eyes.

            “Oh, no,” Hermione answered, feeling the sinking sensation of disappointment settling within her already. “Are you having a party?”

            “Only the Annual Hufflepuff Halloween Celebration!” the grinning girl exclaimed, leaning a bit closer as if sharing a secret. “It’s supposed to be even better than last year’s this year!”

            “You don’t say,” the bushy-haired girl commented politely, even as her brain searched for a new target.

            “Mhmm,” Hannah asserted. “I would invite you… but it’s exclusively for Hufflepuffs.”

            “That’s all right, Hannah,” Hermione assured her. “Though, hey, do you know if Ernie is going to the party tonight?”

            “Yes, of course he is,” Hannah answered. “Why?”

            “Oh, nothing really. I’m just trying to find someone to patrol with me tonight,” Hermione remarked, forcing herself to speak normally.

            “Ah,” Hannah murmured, her eyes softening in pity. “Sorry, Hermione.”

            “No, no, it’s quite all right,” the Gryffindor replied with a small smile. “I’ll just go ask Padma. Have fun at your party tonight.”

            “Thanks, we will! And don’t worry, it stays in the Common Room,” Hannah confided with a wink before returning to her Housemates.

            Lifting a hand to her forehead, Hermione rubbed her skin a few times as she let out a quiet sigh. Trying her hardest to ignore the fact that she had never even known that the Hufflepuffs held a grand celebration every Halloween in their Common Room and all the following thoughts that accompanied that interesting tidbit of information, Hermione scanned the Ravenclaw table earnestly.

            “Where are you…?” Hermione whispered under her breath. Then, after running her gaze across the lines of those seated for the third time, she noticed a pair of students walking towards the entry way. Instantly, she recognized the girl’s hair as that of one of the Patil twins.

            Quickening her steps, Hermione reached the pair just outside the doors.

            “Hey!” she called, not wanting to call either twin the wrong name. When the two students turned around to see who was talking, she was relieved to see Padma’s face.

            “Padma!” she greeted. Then Hermione took a double take as she noticed the boy standing next to her. “Anthony.”

            “Good evening,” he greeted cordially.

            “Hello, Hermione,” Padma replied with a respectful smile. Then Hermione took another double take when she saw that the two Ravenclaw prefects were holding hands.

            “Oh! Am I interrupting something?” the Gryffindor asked, suddenly feeling stupid and invasive.

            “No,” Padma replied kindly just as Anthony said, “Yes, kind of.” The two turned to look at each other, holding a conversation between their glances.

            “It’s okay,” Padma assured Hermione as she turned to her again, ignoring the slight downturn of her apparent boyfriend’s lips. “Did you want something?”

            “Well, actually,” Hermione began, feeling a bit embarrassed. She shuffled her feet and linked her fingers nervously. “I had been wondering if either of you could patrol with me tonight, but I can see you’re… busy.”

            “Oh. Yes,” Padma answered softly. For an elongated moment, the three sixth years stood in a bubble of awkward silence.

            “Sorry…” Padma started to say.

            “No, no, it’s all right,” Hermione insisted. “I’ll just… I’ll just find someone else.”

            “Are you sure?” the Ravenclaw copy of one of her housemates asked, a bit of concern seeping through her tone.

            “Yes,” Hermione asserted, sounding a lot more confident than she felt. With both Hufflepuff and both Ravenclaw prefects busy, who would patrol with her? She couldn’t simply _not_ patrol, especially after explicitly telling the boys how wrong that would be just twenty minutes ago. But she certainly didn’t want to patrol alone. Not that night. Call her silly for being superstitious, but that wouldn’t change the fact that something about Halloween put her on edge.

            Personally, she blamed a particularly scarring experience involving a certain troll.

            “What’s wrong with Weasley?” Anthony inquired curiously. Immediately, Padma elbowed him in the gut, sending him a piercing glare that he returned with a questioning, hurt expression.

            “He’s, er… he can’t make it,” Hermione mumbled, desperately struggling to cast out the mental image of what Ron most likely was doing… and who he was doing it with. She could feel herself flush deeply and prayed for the blood to leave her face and restore just a tiny bit of her dignity.

            “Sorry,” Padma repeated kindly, her eyes conveying how she meant for more than not being able to help her patrol.

            “It’ll be fine,” Hermione whispered, hating that word: fine. Because that was what it would end up being, she was sure. Everything would be fine, and she would be miserable.

            “Maybe Ernie can help you out,” Anthony suggested as the two started to leave.

            Except Ernie was already busy, wasn’t he?

            Sighing, Hermione turned around and went through a mental list. Were there any fifth year prefects she could ask? She wrinkled her nose at the very thought; she wasn’t exactly fond of any of them. Unfortunately, that left the two sixth year prefects from the Slytherin House: Pansy Parkinson and Draco Malfoy.

            Groaning at her misfortune, the stubbornly determined do-gooder spun on her heel to head back towards the Great Hall to look for the dreaded last resort candidates. Before she could even finish turning around, however, the doors opened, almost slamming into her face. A shout of surprise escaped her mouth instinctively, catching the attention of the person who had just stalked through the doorway.

Draco Malfoy.

            “Watch it, Granger,” he growled before turning away to continue down the corridor. Evidently the blond freak was in a bad mood. Lucky her.

            “Wait. Malfoy, wait!” Hermione called desperately. Fortunately, the boy stopped, lifting a hand to run through his hair.

            “What do you want, Granger?” he asked drily. A heavy sort of weariness seemed to emanate from him, and she wondered what would bother him so much.

            “Look, Malfoy… Draco,” Hermione corrected, trying to appease him. Evidently she failed epically, because the boy in question wrinkled his nose. “I need someone to patrol with me tonight.”

            “What, Weasley too distracted shoving his tongue down Brown’s throat?” he retorted nastily. “Upset you, has it?”

            Instantly Hermione felt crippled, like he had send a sharp stab through her stomach. Fighting the instinct to bend over and cradle her uninjured abdomen, she spat, “You know what, Malfoy? Forget this; this was stupid. I’m going to bed.”

            “What happened to calling me Draco?” he replied in a mocking tone. “Have a difficult time forcing a smile?”

            “Go to hell, Malfoy,” she declared fervently, swiftly walking past him,

            “Been there, done that. Believe me, it’s not as fun as it sounds.”

            Something in the way he said those words froze Hermione where she stood. His voice, his tone… he meant something she couldn’t possibly understand.

            “Fine. I’ll help you,” he announced unexpectedly. Slowly, the Gryffindor rotated her head around to peer over her shoulder. There he was, leaning casually to one side, peering down at his nails, looking like the Draco Malfoy she knew. What was he up to?

            “Fine. Thank you,” she replied, unsure of what else to say.

             “If,” he emphasized, shooting his eyes towards hers to lock gazes. Mentally, she rolled her eyes, knowing that she should have expected his assistance to come with a price tag. “You help me find this book I’ve been looking for in the library.”

            “That’s it?” Hermione questioned incredulously. “You want me to help you find a book?”

            “Yes, Granger,” Malfoy droned as if bored with the conversation. “I want you to help me find a book.”

            “Why don’t you just ask Madam Pince?” she asked with narrowed eyes, getting a bit suspicious.

            “She annoys me,” he answered matter-of-factly.

            “Oh. Well, all right then,” Hermione agreed slowly.

            “Brilliant,” her new patrol partner for the night deadpanned. “Let’s get this over with. Where are we headed?”

            Remarkably, the Slytherin listened to her directions and then kept his insulting commentary to himself for the next twenty minutes as they walked towards the other side of the castle. Then, just when Hermione began to think that perhaps she would live through a night’s patrol with Malfoy without ending up killed or a killer, he opened that mouth of his.

            “Why couldn’t you get one of the other prefects to fill Weasley’s spot?” he asked as they strolled down another dark corridor, relying on their lit wands to see.

            “I asked both of the Ravenclaws and both of the Hufflepuffs; evidently the Hufflepuffs always have a huge Halloween Party in their Common Room after the feast, and Padma  and Anthony were… had plans,” Hermione answered truthfully, leaving out the fact that Padma and Anthony’s plans were a date with each other.

            “The Hufflepuffs have a Halloween Party?” Malfoy repeated incredulously. “Since when?”

            “I don’t know. Hannah said it was an annual thing. She made it sound like they always had one. Did you not know about this either?” Hermione questioned, eager to assure herself that she hadn’t simply missed the memo.

            “No. They must keep it a secret. Probably don’t want the professors to find out,” Malfoy responded thoughtfully. “Was the girl sloshed or something when she told you?”

            “Malfoy!” Hermione scolded. “Hannah wouldn’t show up drunk to the Halloween Feast!”

            “Why? Because she’s a _Hufflepuff_?” Malfoy retorted with an amused snort.

            “What’s that have to do with anything?” Hermione questioned, wrinkling her brow.

            “You probably think that being a Hufflepuff means that she’s all gentle, kind, and good, but for all you know she secretly cheats on her essays or shags every walking male or drinks obsessively,” he said pointedly.

            “How could you say such things? Do you think so lowly of all human beings?” Hermione asked indignantly.

            “Not everyone is as perfect as they portray themselves to be,” Malfoy commented with a somewhat dark undertone. “Everyone has flaws, imperfections.”

            “Well, yes, of course they do,” Hermione agreed, meaning to continue and argue that being imperfect didn’t mean someone slept around or cheated or drank or did drugs or anything like that.

            “And don’t forget those skeletons in the closet,” he added with a couple of nods to himself. Then he tilted his head as he looked towards her inquisitively. “I wonder what yours are?”

            “Do you really want me digging into yours?” Hermione replied defensively, her eyes narrowing. Immediately, the Slytherin backed off.

            Then, as the two rounded another corner, a muffled clang echoed through the air.

            “Did you hear that?” Hermione asked, frozen in place.

            “Yeah,” Malfoy answered quietly, listening closely. “Which direction do you think it came from?”

            “Over there.” Hermione pointed her wand somewhere ahead of them and to the right.

            “I thought so, too,” Malfoy said. Quietly, they approached the door of the nearest classroom on the right-hand side of the corridor. Stretching out their hands, both of the prefects paused just within reach of the wood.

            “You open it,” Malfoy urged. “You’re the Gryffindor.”

            “You’re the man!” Hermione retorted.

            Unable to fight against that one, Malfoy abruptly pushed, swinging the door wide open. When nothing came out, the two of them peered inside to find it completely empty. Meeting each other’s gaze, they nodded, nonverbally agreeing to continue on to the next room.

            Again, Malfoy pushed open the door.

            The sound of Hermione’s shriek bounced off the walls, echoed by the deeper exclamation of her Slytherin patrolling partner. Both of them flung backwards, fortunately landing on their hands to brace the fall. During that split second, they shot their heads to the left just in time to see a dark shadow shift around the corner.

            “What the bloody hell was that?!” Malfoy exclaimed loudly, the shine of fear visibly present in his eyes.

            “I… have no idea,” Hermione admitted, frightened by both the experience and that very fact that she had no inkling whatsoever what that creature thing was. Immediately, she scrambled for her wand. After gripping it tightly in her hand once more, she stood up and started sprinting in the direction the shadow had moved.

            “Where are you going?” Malfoy called after her.

            “We need to stop it!” she declared, wishing her heart would stop pounding as loud as those noisy footsteps of hers as her shoes slapped against stone.

            “Are you mad?!” the Slytherin shouted. By the sound of another set of heavy footfalls, however, Hermione could tell that he was following her.

            For some reason, that made her almost want to smile in satisfaction.

“We need to protect the students!” Hermione replied, swerving around the corner. As she did so, she scanned the area for the shadow creature even as she racked her brain for some idea as to what it was.

            “What we need to do,” Malfoy said once he caught up to her, “is find a professor and tell them.”

            “And what will we tell them?” Hermione retorted, shooting him an expectant glance. “That an unidentified creature that looks like a shadow is roaming somewhere around the castle? By the time we find someone to tell, that _thing_ could be anywhere!”

            “ _Already_ that thing could be anywhere!” Malfoy argued, flinging an arm wildly. The movement directed Hermione’s gaze, and a sudden movement past his fingertips captured her attention.

            “Wait, did you see that?” she asked. Instantaneously, he swiveled around, searching in the area Hermione had pointed towards. The two stared anxiously, waiting for something to move among the stones.

            And then, a flutter of the tapestry.

            “There!” Malfoy shouted, pointing his finger. Swiftly, Hermione directed her wand at the black shadow and a stream of bright yellow shot towards it. Malfoy followed with a burst of dark blue light. Combined, the two lines of light lighting the corridor forced the eyes of both prefects to adjust rapidly, throwing them off for a moment.

            Upon impact, the shadow creature released an unearthly howl that struck horror in the very beings of both students.

            Then fear encompassed their every thought as the shadow burst from its hiding place and sped towards them.

            “Run!” Hermione screamed desperately. Stumbling with the first couple of steps, the two prefects sprinted faster than they knew possible.

            “Where are we going?” Malfoy demanded, shooting a glance over his shoulder as they widely rounded the corner. Sure enough, the creature was hot on their heels. And even running as fast as their legs would let them, it seemed to be gaining on them.

            “I don’t know! Why don’t you offer a suggestion?” Hermione shouted, her unnecessarily loud voice bouncing off the castle walls. Its combination with their heavy footsteps and the consistent whoosh of the pursuing monster made for an eerie audio to their flight for their life.

            “You’re the smart one!” he retorted hotly. “Use that brain of yours!”

            “I can’t think!” the girl cried in her defense. “My brain is dead!”

            And it certainly felt like it; her mind was spinning and twirling, searching for answers: where to go, what to do, how to fight this creature, what the creature _was_ …

            “Isn’t there anywhere…” Malfoy began. Then Hermione watched in confusion as he swung his head from side to side. His brow furrowed, and he looked at her and demanded, “Where are we, exactly?”

            She looked around as well, trying to spot identifying landmarks as they sped by. All the paintings seemed to blur together though, and her mind couldn’t place a thing. Quickly changing tactics, she reflected back to where they had been before.

            “Sixth floor. But we’re on the complete opposite side of the castle from the Grand Staircase,” Hermione reported, panting lightly.

            “Where could we find protection?” Malfoy questioned harshly. “Think, Granger!”

            “I’m trying!” Hermione screeched. Suddenly a thought came to her: The Room of Requirement, of course! “I got it!”

            “Where?” Malfoy demanded, casting another look behind them.

            “The seventh floor! How can we get to the seventh floor from here?” Hermione wondered out loud, doubting that Malfoy would provide an answer. Before she could even think about it for more than a second, her body jerked to the left. She couldn’t figure out why until she glanced down and saw the Slytherin’s pale fingers wrapped tightly around her wrist.

            “This way!” he urged, pulling her down an off-branching corridor. Startled by the swift change in direction, Hermione readjusted their connection so she could hold onto him as well. The fact that she was now basically holding hands with him flickered through her mind, but it was almost immediately brushed aside. “The boy’s lavatory on this floor has a secret passage that leads to the seventh floor!”

            “How close is it to the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy? The one with the dancing trolls?” Hermione asked, hoping against hope that he would know where that ridiculous but identifying tapestry was located.

            “What?” he questioned sharply, no doubt getting frustrated with all the confusion and chaos. Still, the shadow creature trailed behind them, and her legs were starting to ache.

            “Never mind,” Hermione said, disappointment weighing down her tone. “That’s just where we have to go.”

            “You want to hide behind a _tapestry?_ ” Malfoy replied incredulously, swinging his head to the side to shoot her a look. He was questioning her intelligence, she could tell. Then his focus shifted to right behind them, his eyes widened, and he pushed himself a little harder.

            “Don’t be daft,” Hermione snapped, feeling a bit insulted. “Across from that tapestry, there’s a secret room where we can hide, a room that no one can find unless they already know where to look.”

            “Not even this monster spirit?” Malfoy asked cautiously.

            “Not if we tell the room not to let it in,” she assured him even as she bit her lip in thought.

            “Are you sure?”

            She hesitated.

            “Granger, are you _sure?_ ” he demanded.

            “I think so! Maybe! It should!” she told him, hoping she was right.

            “Would you bet Potter’s life on it?”

            “I… no,” she admitted. “But do you have any other ideas?”

            “No,” he grumbled as they swung around another corner.

            “How much farther?” Hermione asked, afraid that they wouldn’t make it. The shadow was going to catch them before they made it. It was so close. They were slowing down, she knew it!

            “It’s on the other bloody corner of the castle, Granger!” Malfoy answered harshly.

            “We’re not going to make it,” she decided, feeling the horror grow within her. “I can’t make it that far, Malfoy!”

            The blond Slytherin swore explicitly, and for once, Hermione refrained from scolding his choice of words.

            “Are there any staircases to the seventh floor nearby?” Malfoy questioned, his voice betraying a hint of weariness. Hermione sure hoped it was due to the stress of finding somewhere to hide and not from running, though she herself was feeling the physical strain.

            “Not to the seventh floor. Just the old wooden one to the fifth floor around the next corner. Oh, and the passage down to the third floor through the door next to the painting of the Isolda the Irate,” Hermione listed off, already having thought of them earlier.

            “Then what are we waiting for?” Malfoy murmured under his breath. Then he started running a bit faster again, forcing Hermione to push herself as well to keep their linked hands together. They sprinted to the end of the corridor and practically swung around the corner as they went straight for the old wooden staircase. Before they took two steps, Malfoy glanced backwards to check if the shadow followed. Sure enough, it did.

            “Here, jump!” he shouted. Immediately Hermione’s eyes widened and she started to protest, but the blond had already flipped over railing and was dragging her down with him by the hand. Her words quickly transformed into a piercing scream.

            Suddenly they stopped falling through the air and were on the stone floor.

            “Get up, get up!” Malfoy commanded, yanking on Hermione’s hand anxiously. Although her right ankle hurt rather badly and both legs felt very unsteady, she somehow managed to stand and start running again.

            “Here, Granger!” Malfoy whispered loudly, pulling open the third door on the left and swiftly shutting it again. Both of them fell back against the wood, breathing hard but saying nothing as they listened for any noises on the other side.

            After a long period of silence, Malfoy sank down to the floor with a sigh. Partly because their hands were still joined and partly because she was absolutely exhausted, Hermione followed suit. As her body relaxed against the wood, she easily removed her hand to hold her head, thumbs rubbing her temples.

            “So much for going after it,” Malfoy said in a quiet, fatigued voice.

            “Shut up, Malfoy,” Hermione commanded in whispered tones, tossing up her head to glare at him pointedly. “What if it’s still out there?”

            In response, Malfoy raised his wand and cast a silencing spell around the room.

            “That’ll work,” she admitted, half nodding as she tilted her head to the side. Then she sighed heavily. “But how do we know when it’s safe to leave?”

            Malfoy’s eyebrows crunched together in concentration as he swung his head from the door, to the rest of the room, back to the door, and back to the dark empty room.

            “We’ll just have to find another way out.”

            Hermione stared at him and scoffed. Ignoring her, the blond Slytherin stood up, brushed off his robes, and lit the end of his wand.

            “You really think that another doorway is going to _magically_ appear, Malfoy?”

            “In case you’ve forgotten,” he replied without glancing back or ceasing his search of the left wall, “we’re in a _magical_ castle, Granger. What happen to those brains of yours?”

            The Gryffindor girl shot daggers at the blond boy’s back as he walked to the opposite side of the room, the end of his wand shedding a soft illumination across the stone floor.

            “There’s something back here,” he murmured softly, his quiet tones echoing off the walls. Curious, Hermione hurriedly followed him to the back of the room. Together, the light from both of their wands allowed a clear view of the intricately designed tapestry covering the majority of the wall. Without a word, the blond Slytherin shot a smirk over at his patrol partner for the night and reached for the edge.

            “Malfoy, this is stupid. Magical castle or not, it’s not like there’s going to happen to be a secret—”

            Suddenly the boy moved, slipping behind the fabric and out of sight, striking Hermione completely silent, mouth open wide.

            “Escape passageway behind this tapestry?”

            Hearing his voice from the other side sparked Hermione into action, and she hurried over to the side, pulling back the fabric to see Malfoy leaning against the opposite side of the stone wall of the concealed passageway. After blinking a few times, she shook her head back and forth, a smile unexplainably taking over her mouth.

            “That is…”

            “Amazing?” he offered, smirking that smug little smirk of his. “Awesome? Ingenious?”

            “Ridiculous!” she exclaimed as she entered the passageway and let the fabric fall back in place behind her. “Did you know this was here? You’ve been in that room before, haven’t you?”

            “Actually, Granger, I have not,” he answered, confidence radiating from him as he strolled down the path. “I just have brains.”

            “You should use them more often then,” Hermione remarked casually, sending him a glance. Then she turned her attention back to the darkness in front of them. As far as the light from their wands would show, there was nothing in sight but the extending two stone walls on either side of them. “Any idea where this leads?”

            “Your guess is as good as mine, Granger,” Malfoy murmured, walking on ahead. Swinging his head around to look at her, he changed his mind. “Well, not really. My guess would obviously be better.”

            “Oh, whatever, Malfoy,” Hermione shot out, feeling that familiar annoyance with the blond start to build again. Somehow, though, she managed to contain it, leaving only the constant tapping of their feet against the stone floor to be heard as they continued down the passageway.   

            “So… Granger,” Malfoy said slowly, obviously uncomfortable with the silence. She shot him a questioning look when he didn’t continue, and spotted the sly smirk once again gracing his face. Just from that expression on his face alone, Hermione knew he was going to say something she wouldn’t like.

            “What?” she deadpanned, not really looking forward to the response.

            “You called me a man back there.”

            “Yeah, so?” Hermione retorted, even as she felt the slightest blush rise up to taint her cheeks. “You’re male, aren’t you? Unless you have something you’re not sharing with the class…”

            “Oh, I’m male, all right. Need proof?” he offered with a glare and lift of his eyebrows.

            “No thanks, Malfoy,” she scoffed, returning the glare. “What I _need_ is an end to this _bloody tunnel_.”

            Again he twisted to look at her, raising both eyebrows as his lips curled with amusement.

            “You kiss Potter with that mouth, Granger?” he sniggered.

            “I’m _tired_ , Malfoy, and no, I don’t kiss Harry,” she shot back, eyes narrowing towards the git.

            “That’s right, Weasley’s the one you pant after – Merlin knows why,” he exclaimed, a cruel sheen in his eyes. “’Cept he’s off giving it to Brown now, isn’t he?”

            “Shut up, Malfoy,” she ground out, teeth clenched as tight as her fists.

            “That is why I’m stuck her—”

            Before he could blink, Hermione swung around and pushed him roughly, forcing him against the stone wall, one hand wrapped around his upper arm, her wand poised right by the curve of his neck.

            “I told you to shut up,” she growled coldly. She didn’t miss the flash of fear in his eyes, nor the way they hardened. Rather than extend the confrontation however (partially because she knew she couldn’t physically restrain him for long but mostly because they still had to find a way out), she released him a second later to storm on ahead.

            Remarkably, he grumbled a bit, but refrained from speaking for the next fifteen or so minutes.

            “Is it just me, or are the walls closing in?” Hermione mumbled softly, shifting her gaze to and from either side. The boy next to her did likewise, also looking up at the ceiling, which was definitely closer to his head than it had been earlier.

            “The passageway must be shrinking,” Malfoy said. Immediately, Hermione swung her head to pierce his eyes with a steely gaze.

            “You think?” she replied sarcastically. Rolling his eyes, he glared at the floor, not doubt cursing the fact that he agreed to come along in the first place. Just as well; Hermione was already regretting asking the annoying git. She should have known.

            “Move _over_ , Granger,” Malfoy grumbled after their shoulders bumped for the fourth time in half the number of minutes.

            “I _can’t,_ idiot _,_ ” she snapped. “I’m already scraping my arm on the wall.”

            After half a minute more of inarticulate grouching, the exasperated blond let out a most peculiar sound that made Hermione debate the possible offspring of a growl and a sigh and shoved past her. “This is ridiculous. I’ll go first, you can follow.”

            “I don’t think so!” Pride swelled within her, refusing to let him say that to her in such a demeaning tone. She pushed him aside and squeezed past. The corridor had shrunken considerably by this time, so it wasn’t an easy task. Before she had taken three steps though, Hermione regretted her decision; although she had a clear view of the black tunnel in front of them, she could no longer see Malfoy or what he was doing.

            “Never mind,” she said, turning around abruptly to face him. He scowled at her for stopping so suddenly. “I need to keep my eyes on you.”

            A familiar sheen slid over his gaze, and he opened his mouth, but before his completely unwelcome and no doubt crude comment could escape, she shoved him to the right-hand side and attempted to push herself against the left wall as much as possible while moving past him. Unfortunately, the corridor, however, had gotten so small that there’s wasn’t quite enough room, so she got stuck.

            “Merlin, Granger!” Malfoy wheezed, and Hermione wasn’t sure if she had accidentally knocked the breath out of him by pressing against his chest or if she had hit some… _other_ part of his body. Slightly nervous and feeling very much awkward, Hermione glanced upward to meet his eyes, which were staring straight at her, twisting darkly with an emotion she didn’t altogether recognize.

            “Sorry,” she whispered, her voice coming out much more… breathy than she’d wanted. Forcing herself to swallow and diverge her eyes, she put her hands against his chest and tried to squeeze past him again while pushing him away. When she started pushing, however, he immediately shouted at her.

            “Are you trying to _crush_ me?”

            “I’m just trying to move, Malfoy,” she replied scathingly, still avoiding his gaze. Looking down at both of their bodies, squished much too close to each other, she tried to figure out a way to get out of the mess she’d gotten them in. “Here, why don’t you try to stand on your toes and suck in your breath, raising as much of your body as possible as high as you can. I’ll try to sink lower.”

            “Bad idea!” he groaned a split second later when she started moving. Hermione froze, uncomfortable with the tone he’d used. Clearing her throat, she tried to be as still as possible as he recomposed himself.

            “Okay,” he said, voice slightly hoarse,” let’s try something else. I’ll throw all my body weight backwards, you’ll push yourself forward.”

            Unable to speak to him yet (and still avoiding his eye), Hermione nodded her agreement. On his count of three, they both forced their bodies in opposite directions and managed to burst free, breathing heavily as each of them fell to the floor. Overwhelmingly relieved, Hermione chanced a glance over at the Slytherin boy, who seemed to be perfectly fine. Though his cheeks and nose looked a bit more colorful than they usually were. Not that it took much color to make his pale skin actually look healthy, but she had a feeling that redness wasn’t a sign of proper health.

            Getting back on her feet, Hermione brushed off her robes and took in a large breath, sorting her thoughts and focusing back on the task at hand: getting to the end of the this incredibly long tunnel. Picking up her wand, which she had dropped on the floor when she’d fallen, she started walking again. Behind her, Malfoy didn’t say anything, but she could hear his footsteps following her, so she didn’t feel the need to say anything either.

            A few minutes of relative silence later, Hermione started running, her eyes straining to see if that larger darkness ahead really was what she thought it was.

            “Oh, thank Merlin!” she exclaimed when the tunnel opened up into a room. Beside her, Malfoy murmured something unintelligible, but she didn’t bother asking what he’d said. “Let’s get out of here.”

            Pushing forward, the Gryffindor girl reached the opposite wall of the room and was disappointed to not find a door. Nevertheless, she was determined, and turned to the left. But that side was a solid wall as well. Hurrying across to the other side, she was horrified to discover no door over there either.

            “What?” she shrieked. “Malfoy, there’s no door out!”

            “Granger,” he replied in a voice that put her even more on edge, “the tunnel disappeared.”

            “What?” she repeated, her tone flat and dead this time. She couldn’t believe this. How could they be stuck in a room with no windows and no doors? But sure enough, when she walked over to when Malfoy was standing – right in front of where they had just come into the room – the wall was solid, with no sign that a tunnel had ever existed.

            “I hate Halloween,” she declared, glaring at the solid wall.

            “What are we supposed to do now?” the Slytherin boy whined.

            “How am I supposed to know, Malfoy?” she snapped.

            “You’re the one that’s so proud of your _brains_ ,” he shot back. Suddenly, something wet and slimy landed on Hermione’s head, dripping a gooey liquid onto her shoulder. She shrieked, reaching her hand up to frantically hit it, trying to get it off of her.

            “ _What is that?!_ ” Malfoy screamed, pointed at the pinkish mass as it dropped to the ground with a plop. Hermione scurried away from it, hurrying over to Malfoy and instinctively gripping his upper arm and shoulder as she peered back at the thing that had been on her head. Malfoy immediately pushed her away, shooting the goo covering her hair a look of pure revulsion. Distracted enough to not care that he’d shoved her, Hermione crept a tad closer to the unknown substance.

            “I think it’s… a brain,” she said, eyes narrowing as she studied it. Stretching forth her wand, she saw the distinctive pattern of swirls and folds.

            “What?” Malfoy’s voice had changed completely, the utter surprise striking out all fear.

            “A brain!” she repeated, astonished.

            “How?” Malfoy asked, walking closer to examine the brain himself.

            “I have no idea,” Hermione replied, turning her gaze up to the ceiling, trying to reason out where the thing had come from. But the ceiling was solid stone, so it couldn’t have been up there. Then a thought struck her. “Wait.”

            She spun around to face Malfoy, who gave her a questioning look.

            “It couldn’t possibly be a coincidence that you said that I was the one who was proud of my brains and then that brain fell on my head.”

            Not having put that together, Malfoy’s expression twisted with even more confusion. “But… how?”

            Furrowing her brow in thought, Hermione didn’t answer him for a minute as she concentrated. Then, all of a sudden, the brain disappeared.

            “Whoa!” Malfoy exclaimed. “What did you do?”

            “I imagined it gone,” she told him, a proud grin slapped across her face. “It worked

            “No way,” Malfoy replied. “It can’t be that simple.

            “Try it,” Hermione urged, eager to test the room again. “Imagine something insane, something that would never really happen.”

            At first the teenaged boy glanced at her warily, but then a mischievous glint entered his eye. As he scanned her over, she felt a ripple of magic flow down her body. Suddenly she snapped stiff, overly aware even without looking at herself that her clothes had changed. She shivered, hit by the chilly air, and protectively wrapped both arms around her, one hugging her breasts while the other struggled to cover her revealed abdomen.

            “Malfoy!” she screeched, hating the way the thick goop on her lips felt as she spoke. It wasn’t as bad as the skin-tight mini skirt and high heels, or the too-short shirt cut entirely too low, but she hated the unnatural feel of makeup. Desperate to hide herself, she turned around, then peeked over her shoulder to see Malfoy just start to pull himself together. His eyebrows had ascended so high she doubted they would ever return to their usual location, and his lower jaw sure had a far climb from the floor. His creepy little gray eyes still crawled all over her, and she shifted uncomfortably. “What did you do?”

            Instantly, his expression changed, his lips curling into a smirk.

            “I, uh, _imagined_ a nice little… costume for you,” he replied, his tone sickeningly sweet. “You did tell me to pick something that would never really happen

            “I didn’t mean _this_!” Hermione hissed, turning back around to face him and spreading out her arms wide to gesture to her body. Immediately his gaze dropped to _not her face,_ and she folded her arms back over herself. The anger within her nearly exploded when she saw the amusement and complete lack of shame shining in his eyes. Narrowing her own, a devious idea sprung into her head, and before she could unthink it, the room brought her imagination into reality

            Just as had happened to her, a wave of magic pulsed around Malfoy’s body. His blond hair grew longer and whiter (though she hadn’t thought that possible), his robes tightened and morphed into an extremely long, sleeveless, forest green shirt that clung to his chest and accompanying brown pants. Leather boots covered his calves and feet as a brown belt twisted its way around his hips. Hermione noticed with a rush of delight that even his ears had changed.

            “What the hell?!” he demanded, looking down at himself. He pulled at the flaps of his shirt, which widened considerably at the top and revealed a good portion of his chest, but the material refused to give.

            “Oh, Merlin!” she managed to breathe out before bursting into laughter.

            “What kind of twisted freak are you?” Malfoy squeaked, abandoning the hopeless task of fixing his shirt to run his hands through his much too long hair. When his fingers reached the side of his head however, he suddenly froze, the little color in his face disappearing faster than a snitch. Both hands shot to his ears, feeling one and then the other. Then his eyes snapped to look at Hermione, the steely gray gaze piercing into hers. Too amused to care that he was angry (served him right for putting her in that… _outfit!_ ), she barely managed to contain her giggles as he asked in a deceptively calm voice, “Granger, why are my ears pointy?”

            Clearing her throat, Hermione fought for control, making sure she wouldn’t start laughing again.

            “Because you’re an elf.”

"Elves do  _not_ look like this!" he exclaimed scathingly. "Where in your sick, demented mind did you come up with this?"

"Explain where mine came from!" Hermione shot back, the blush returning to her cheeks as the very thought of her appearance returned to her mind. "And they do in Lord of the Rings."

"Who of the  _what_?" the extra-blond blond asked, eyebrows crunching together in confusion.

"Nothing. Never mind," the witch replied, resisting the instinctual urge to gesture with her hand in order to preserve what little modesty she could by covering herself with her arms.

"Whatever, just change it back!" Malfoy demanded, glaring at his longer than usual hair with disgust.

"Change me back first!" she shot back stubbornly. Not even a second later, she realized that her words made no sense; if the room worked like she thought it did, then she could change her appearance herself. To test her theory, she closed her eyes and imagined wearing her usual school robes. Another ripple of magic waved through her body, and then she didn't feel so cold anymore as the familiar weight of her clothing returned. Smiling with satisfaction, she opened her eyes again to see Malfoy scowling at her. "Never mind; I got it."

"No fair!" he exclaimed, looking down at himself again. Scowling all the while, he closed his eyes for almost half a minute before opening them again. Nothing had changed.

"Just change yourself back," Hermione said, slightly annoyed at his incompetence. Turning around, she meant to focus her attention onto the mysteries of the room, but his hand grabbed her shoulder before she could.

"I can't," he ground out roughly.

"How stupid are you?" she snapped, jerking her shoulder free from his grasp. "Just imagine yourself wearing your school robes again."

"I can't!" he repeated. "I can't get over the fact that I'm wearing this bloody ridiculous…  _elf costume_!"

"Seriously?" Hermione asked, her face breaking out into a grin with sudden amusement. In response, the blond glared furiously at her and stubbornly folded his arms. "Sucks for you then."

"Don't make me imagine you in something worse!" he threatened as she turned back around, walking towards the nearest wall. "I'm sure I'll have no problem with that."

"Why would I care?" she retorted, glancing over her shoulder to shoot him a self-satisfied smirk. "I can change myself back."

Glaring at her, he drew back his lips into a firm line as he thought, and then, Hermione felt that strange magical sensation that was starting to become familiar rush through her body. In a split second, she went from comfortable and smug to cold and exposed. Somewhere in her brain, it registered that the loss of the weight of clothes meant she wasn't wearing any, but the shock of the concept that he had  _dared_ imagine her naked kept it from doing anything about it for a full three seconds. Her mind spun at a dizzying pace as she swiftly pictured herself in the first outfit she could thing of: an old t-shirt and worn pair of jeans.

"Malfoy!" she shrieked, feeling the blood rush to her face to turn it violently red.

"I did warn you," he said, holding up both palms defensively. But the shine in his eyes and amusement in his voice only irritated the Gryffindor girl further.

"There was a line, Malfoy," she ground out angrily. "And you crossed it."

Suddenly the room darkened to a pitch black. Although she could no longer see the walls or the boy right in front of her, Hermione was focused on the image she saw in her head.

A flash of light. A high-pitched scream.

Then the room was filled with an unnatural glow that seemed to stem from no visible source, revealing a cowering Malfoy. The smirk that had already sat on Hermione's face split open as she burst into a somewhat cruel laugh at the ridiculous sight. The Slytherin, still dressed in the modified elf costume, clutching the stone wall he had backed up against, eyes wide and mouth gaping post-scream. In the blink of an eye, he regained his composure, stepping away from the wall, straightening his spine, rolling back his shoulders, and running a hand through his hair. But his hair was still as long as an elf's, something which he must have momentarily forgotten, for he rolled his eyes and glared at the platinum blond strands he held.

"What was that you saying about being a man earlier?" Hermione teased, laughter still ringing through the room.

"Oh, stuff it, Granger," he grumbled, transferring his piercing glare from the extra-long hair in his hand to her.

"But it was hysterical!" she exclaimed, laughing again.

"Stop laughing!" Malfoy demanded fervently, tossing his hair behind his shoulder and crossing his arms in front of his chest. "I wasn't frightened!"

"That why you jumped ten feet and wet your knickers?" Hermione taunted.

"I did not!" he protested indignantly.

"You did scream like a third year girl," she replied with a smirk, propping her hand on her hips. Instead of speaking, Malfoy glared at her, then closed his eyes and concentrated for a few seconds. A wave of magic washed over him, transforming the outfit covering part of his body to his typical school uniform, returning his ears to their normal non-pointy status, and shortening his hair.

"So you managed to do it," the Gryffindor girl remarked in mock praise.

"Shut up, Granger," he mumbled. Although still amused, Hermione thought that perhaps it would be best to leave it alone. Malfoy had evidently turned himself into Mr. Moodypants now, and besides, there were other things that deserved her attention, such as finding a way to get out of this room.

"I take it the nonsense is over then?" she said, pushing the past few minutes out of her mind. "Let's move past it."

"Yes. Let's," Malfoy repeated, voice low and muffled by some sort of emotion Hermione couldn't quite identify.

"If we're to get out of here, we first need to understand where we are and how this room works," Hermione said, nodding to herself as her brain began processing the information she had gathered through their experiences thus far.

"It's not that complicated, Granger," Malfoy said with an exasperated sigh. "The room responds to the mental images we form within our minds. If we want to get out, we just need to imagine a door."

As he finished speaking, the wall in front of them shimmered, a great wooden door forming from the stone, complete with large metal handles and an elaborately carved frame. Hermione was surprised, and was about to comment on the artistry of the work, but before she could, the blond Slytherin strode across the room and started to push it open.

"Wait!" Hermione called, stretching forth her arm.

"For what?" he asked, shooting her a curious look. Biting her lip, Hermione tore her gaze from the boy's and looked about the room.

"I… This room is amazing. Do we have to leave just yet?"

His shoulders fell and he dropped his head, staring at her with disbelief in his eyes.

"Granger…"

"Think of the possibilities!" she exclaimed, throwing out her arms and spinning in a circle. "This room could be anything. We could go anywhere, be anywhere, have anything, just by imagining it."

"Yes, yes, very interesting. The imagination is a powerful thing and somehow this room captures that power. Fantastic," the Slytherin deadpanned. "Can we leave?"

"But… think of the books!" Hermione said, and instantly the room transformed. Five times as large as before, wooden bookcases lined three of the walls, each of them running from floor to high ceiling and crammed with books of all size and color. The fourth wall was a gigantic window with heavy emerald drapes pulled to either side to let it the streaming sunlight and a spectacular view of the Hogwarts Grounds. Beneath their feet, the stone had become beautiful wood, though exquisitely designed rugs covered most of the floor. A couple of couches, a number of tables of various sizes, and a fair few armchairs that looked entirely too comfortable were littered throughout the room.

"Oh," the girl gasped, bringing her hands to her mouth.

"Whoa," Malfoy said before he could stop himself. "You made it day."

"It's beautiful!" Hermione exclaimed, rushing towards the walls and feeling the wooden shelves before reaching for the books. She pulled one out at random and opened it up. "And it's all real! Yet… not real."

The bookworm replaced the book she had removed and scanned her eyes over all the books. She walked along the entire wall, reading the titles that spanned the space. With every step, her brow furrowed more, lips curling down into a frown.

"What is it?" Malfoy asked, curious.

"None of these are real books," she said softly. "At least I don't think they are. I don't recognize any of them."

Intrigued, the Slytherin boy approached the bookcase. Sure enough, he didn't recognize any of the titles either.

"Strange," he remarked.

"Yes," the Gryffindor agreed. "But wonderful."

Then, snapping his mind out of these all too real clouds, he looked back towards where the door had been, only to see more bookcases. He groaned.

"You made the door disappear," he whined, gesturing to the solid wall of bookcase.

"So just imagine it there again," Hermione replied, not even bothering to lift her gaze from the book in her hand.

"Are you just going to stay here then?" he shot, frustration rising once again.

She didn't answer.

He sighed and folded his arms.

"Granger, it's been a long night, and I am tired."

"There are couches," she said, continuing to keep her focus on the book she held.

"Seriously?" he replied flatly.

Again she didn't answer.

Rolling his eyes, he gave in and went over to the nearest couch, dropping sideways onto the cushions like deadweight. Although it was remarkably comfortable, he made a point of expressing his discontent. He exhaled sharply while staring at the Gryffindor girl's back; he groaned while lying on his own back and gazing up at the ceiling; he sighed as loudly as he could while drooping his body half off the couch and looking at the rug on the floor.

For two whole minutes he did this.

Then Hermione could ignore him no longer.

Putting her finger between the pages, she closed the book in her hand and walked over to where the Slytherin boy was strewn across the cushions. Sitting on the arm of the couch, she looked at the back of his head as she spoke.

"Malfoy-Draco," she began.

"Don't start with that bull again," he snapped, the sound muffled by the fact that his voice was being projected to that area beneath the couch, but the sentiment coming across just fine.

"I was just trying to be civil," she murmured under her breath.

"Well, don't."

"I really think this room is amazing, and I would appreciate a bit more time here-"

"Then come back some other time," he demanded, abruptly lifting his upper body to actually look her in the eyes. "Because I am tired."

"But what if it moves?" she protested. "What if I can never find it again? What if-"

"Argh!"

The blond boy collapsed back onto the couch, face pressed into the cushions.

"Is there anything I can do to make you stay?" Hermione pleaded. After the words came out of her mouth, she was slightly surprised by them, as well as the almost pathetic tone that delivered them, but she brushed it aside.

"No."

Letting out a sigh, Hermione raked through her brain for an idea, for something that she could do that would convince Malfoy to let her stay.

"What if-"

"No."

"You didn't even listen to what I had to say!" she protested, folding her arms and pouting a bit, even though he couldn't see her.

"So?"

"Draco."

Silence settled between them. Although Hermione felt perfectly at ease staring at the back of the blond boy's head and waiting for him to respond, said blond boy must have started to feel uncomfortable, because he squirmed slightly. Finally, he propped his arms beneath him and lifted his head to look at her.

"What?" he asked, voice empty and almost hollow, as if he had given up or something. All of a sudden, Hermione realized that he was acting peculiar, and that he had been acting peculiar for some time now. Tilting her head, she searched his grey eyes for some sign, some hint to explain the emotions churning within him, because on the surface all she saw was fatigue. More than one sort, too. His pale skin was paler than usual, and he was skinnier than usual as well; it even showed in his face. Beneath his eyes were shadows that told tales of sleepless nights, but she knew for a fact that he hadn't been getting top grades recently; she had sneaked a glance at one of his papers in Potions last week to see if he had beaten her again, but he had only received an A. At the time, she had thought it was the result of no longer having Professor Snape and finally getting equal treatment, but now she wasn't so sure.

Maybe he was struggling.

"Are you doing all right?" she asked softly. To her surprise, his eyes widened and then narrowed suspiciously before he diverted his gaze. The expression on his face hardened and he opened his mouth to respond, but before any words escaped, Hermione – prompted to do so by something on the edge of her awareness – said, "I mean in school. Is that what you need that book in the library for?"

"What?" he repeated, instantly meeting up with her gaze again as he scrunched his face in confusion.

"When I asked you to patrol with my tonight, you agreed conditionally," she reminded him.

"Right…" he said slowly, shaking his head as if trying to reorganize his thoughts.

"I could do more, you know," she offered, staring at her fingers that she nervously curled and stretched out over and over. "I could help you… study."

With those words in the air between them, suddenly Hermione felt awkward. She shifted uneasily, realizing that the arm of this couch was not the most comfortable seat.

Then she nearly jumped off the arm entirely when Malfoy let out a loud snort.

"You don't want to help me," he told her, a dark sort of amusement coloring his tone. Unsure if that was a statement she really wanted to argue, Hermione stayed quiet, forcing her eyes to focus on her hands. It was difficult, especially after the silence stretched on for a few minutes.

"You're too good for your own good, sometimes, Granger," he told her quietly.

Surprised to hear him say such a thing, her brow furrowed quizzically as her eyes darted up to meet his. For a split second, she thought she saw a gentle sort of pity within, tinted by a sadness she never expected to shine from those eyes.

Then he blinked, and they both diverted their gaze.

"If you'll agree, I have a proposal," the boy announced, a bit too loudly. Nevertheless, Hermione almost welcomed it after the near whisper previously.

"Go ahead," she said.

"We can imagine anything we want, right?" the boy began, swinging his body around and sitting up properly. "I'll make a few changes, make it dark and all, and just sleep on the couch. It's actually quite comfortable. You can spend however long you want reading these books that don't exist and experimenting with the room as long as you don't wake me up. In the morning, we leave, heading directly to the library, where you'll aid me as you promised. Then we part ways, never speaking of this again."

Again Hermione's head popped up and she stared at the boy, this time in wonder and gratitude.

"Really? You'd do that?"

"Don't get all… weird on me, Granger," the Slytherin warned, but the lack of malice turned the phrase into one that just made her smile. Then she closed her eyes. Before she even opened them back up, she sensed the transition to darkness. Although the room was still lined with bookcases, it was smaller now and lacked a window, and all of the light stemmed from table lamps on the two tables left in the room. One was between the only armchair remaining, a plush deep blue chair with a white blanket draped across it that looked entirely too comfortable, and the only remaining couch, the one the two of them still sat on, now a dark brown leather couch littered with a variety of pillows. The other table sat on the other side of the room next to the head of the bed that was pushed against the wall that once was a window. Nothing extravagant, of modest size and lacking a headboard or footboard, it nevertheless did look incredibly inviting, with plenty of large white pillows and a thick white duvet.

"Trying to get me into bed, Granger?" Malfoy asked with a smirk. In the dim lighting, for some reason it made Hermione blush lightly.

"I was trying to say 'thank you' actually," she replied, keeping her voice calm and steady. Then she distracted herself by changing herself into a comfortable sweater and some pajama pants. When she opened her eyes again, she saw a wave of magic shimmer over Malfoy, leaving him in pajama pants as well. He was not, however, wearing a shirt, and this time she knew she was blushing.

Quickly turning away, Hermione stood up, looked down at her book, then decided to use the time she had as effectively as possible and moved over to the bookcase where she had found it, putting it back in its place. Skimming the titles, she pulled the interesting ones off the shelf and began to stack them in her left arm.

"Merlin, Granger, not half bad," Malfoy remarked as he slid beneath the covers. Try as she might, for some reason Hermione couldn't stop watching his movements from the corner of her eye. "Especially for  _your_ brain."

"What's that supposed to mean?" she asked as she brought the tall stack of books she'd collected over to the other table. They landed on the wood with an audible thump.

"I always figured you for more logical, less imaginative, is all," he murmured, and now Hermione noticed that his voice was streaked with fatigue. She wondered how long it had been so, then mentally berated herself for not catching it earlier. Maybe she was more tired than she thought. Picking up the one on top, she settled onto the armchair, wrapping the blanket around herself. Only when the boy in the bed made an all too endearing sound of contentment and she looked up at him, did she realize that she was directly facing him.

His bare arms were folded to place his hands beneath his head, the blond strands of hair messily strewn on the white pillow. The white blanket was pulled only mid-chest, and the pale part of his body actually seemed to contain color when contrasted by the pure white surrounding it. He looked almost peaceful, especially lying so still, and with his eyes closed.

"Gonna watch me sleep all night?" he asked without moving his lips. Definitely embarrassed this time, Hermione pulled her gaze back to her book.

"Get over yourself, Malfoy," she retorted. He chuckled, and then let out a long breath that Hermione recognized as one of the signs that sleep was taking over. A few minutes later he turned to his side and curled his body together.

"Good night," Hermione whispered, knowing he was now asleep. As she expected, he didn't respond.

For the next couple hours, Hermione read through books and books that she would never find in the world outside this room. Then she spent the following few hours experimenting with the room, always including within her mental sketches the bed where the Slytherin boy slept soundly. She imagined being in a grand ballroom and wearing the most exquisite gown. She imagined lying down on the softest grass she'd ever felt and looking up at the brightest stars she'd ever seen forming constellations that only existed in her mind. She walked through impossible forests and listened to the steady stream of the most beautiful waterfalls and rivers. She pictured grand paintings and statues that she had always dreamed some artist would create. The room would bring her to a medieval castle, a magnificent cathedral, and the halls of great kings. She imagined living in fictional worlds and handling objects of legend.

But when she felt the heavy weight of the hours she had gone without sleep, she thought that perhaps it was time that she stop. She had enjoyed every minute of her explorations within the single room, but she knew through the experience of countless all-nighters of the past that dawn was approaching. With a wistful sigh, she approached the white bed.

Honestly, Hermione had kind of been hoping that Malfoy would be a snorer, just because she wanted to hold it over his head, but the boy turned out to be quite a sound sleeper. It was almost annoying how calm and peaceful of a sleeper he was, actually. As she reached the side of the bed, her eyes were drawn to his face. For a few seconds, she examined the curve his cheekbones, the shape of his eyes, the form of his mouth. Then she scanned over his exposed body. Yes, he definitely was thinner than he used to be. Whether he wanted to admit it or not, this boy was stressing about something. Perhaps school, perhaps… perhaps something else.

"Malfoy," she whispered, suddenly at loss of how to go about waking him up, exactly. Evidently though, whispering wasn't going to cut it.

"Malfoy," she said again, this time a bit louder. Still, he didn't respond.

"Malfoy," she repeated, louder still. Nothing.

"Draco," she tried. To her relief, he shifted slightly. "Wake up."

"Wake up, Draco," she said, louder still. This time he rolled over, away from her. With a sigh of frustration, Hermione sat on the edge of the bed and put her hand on his shoulder.

"Wake up, Draco," she prodded, shaking him, gently at first, then more vigorously. Finally, he opened his eyes.

"Ugh, go away, Granger," he mumbled, turning back over. But Hermione gripped his shoulder and forced him to turn back onto his back.

"Nope, time to get up," she instructed. He groaned and closed his eyes again. "We have to get to the library, remember?"

"Now?" he whined.

"Before class! And I was hoping to get some breakfast, and maybe even change out of these clothes so everyone doesn't know I spent the night away from my dorm," she pointed out.

"Granger, this room lets you imagine yourself new clothes. Use it!" he exclaimed. Hermione hesitated for a moment. She hadn't even thought of that!

"Fine, but I still need my bag, and I'm rather hungry, and I have no idea how long it'll take for me to help you find that book you're looking for," she argued. Opening his eyes again, he glared at her, then looked pointedly down at where her hands were still lying on top of his chest.

"Do you mind?"

"Oh! Sorry!" The Gryffindor girl jumped to her feet, rubbing her palms on the side of her pajama pants. She dropped her gaze to the floor before bringing it back up to the boy in the bed, fully intending to continue conversing about the plan for the next hour or so. But at the sight of his rustled hair, she let out a laugh that sounded much too much like a giggle.

"What?" Malfoy demanded, looking down at his chest.

"Nice hair," she blurted, laughing again. Rolling his eyes, the blond ran his fingers repeatedly through said hair.

"You don't exactly look all that stellar at the moment either, Granger," he retorted. Fighting the desire to maturely stick her tongue out at the boy, Hermione self-consciously ran a hand through her own hair. Then she decided that was a stupid thing to worry about.

Closing her eyes, she focused on changing her clothes back into her usual school uniform. After yawning and stretching, Malfoy got out of bed and did the same.

"All right, let's get out of here," he said, strolling towards a door in the wall as it was forming.

"Where do you think the door will lead to?" Hermione asked, hurrying to his side.

"Since I imagined it leading to the library, I'm thinking the library." Sure enough, when he cracked open the door, the two students found themselves in the school library. Glancing around to make sure no one was around, they made their way to the left.

"Well, I guess we both know who woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning," she muttered quietly, a little surprised that she had been slightly surprised at his rudeness.

"Well,  _someone_ woke me up at an unholy hour  _and_ kept me up late by forcing me to patrol with them," he shot back.

"I didn't force you to do anything!" she exclaimed, a bit too loudly. They both paused and waited for a moment before continuing on. Hermione also took that moment to take in a deep breath and clear her mind, focusing on what they were doing here in the first place. "Where are we going? What is this book you're looking for?"

"I'm looking for some way to fix something that's broken," he told her. When she looked at him expectantly, he ignored her hint. "That's all you need to know."

"That's not for a class," she commented.

"No, it's not," he agreed, "but I never said it was."

"True," she acknowledged grudgingly. "All right. I think I have a few ideas."

Leading them relatively silently through the twisting maze of bookcases, the pair spent the next hour searching for and through various volumes, bickering back and forth the entire time, but lacking the venom such exchanged using involved. Eventually, they compiled a collection of five books that contained various options and experiments for Malfoy to try.

"Should be enough to begin, don't you think?" Hermione asked, content with the stack on the table. The Slytherin made a noncommittal noise that she took for assent.

"Then I'm off," she announced, standing and pushing back in the chair she'd been using. She waited though, turning her gaze once more to the blond. "Are you heading for the Great Hall?"

He stared at her, looked to the books they'd gathered, then looked back up at her.

"Granger, we're not friends now," he said slowly. "Nothing's changed."

For a moment, Hermione felt a twisting sensation within her that left a sting, but inwardly, she betrayed nothing. She shrugged.

"Just trying to be civil, Malfoy," she said, walking around the table.

"Didn't I tell you already to stop that?"

The tone of his voice almost made her freeze. It sounded close to… friendly teasing, if she dare think it. Peering over her shoulder, she saw his eyes glint with some unknown emotion, mixed in, once again, with what seemed like sadness.

"I suppose I'm just stubborn is all," she replied, confused even more about this boy. Then she continued walking, wondering with every step if he would shout something after her or catch up and walk alongside her. But he never did.

As she opened the doors to the Great Hall, she reflected back on the last twelve hours. They certainly were interesting, to say the least. She smiled to herself at some of the memories, especially of Malfoy in those ridiculous clothes. Closing her eyes, she let the memories flourish within her mind for a few more moments, then forcibly pushed them away.

The easiest thing to do would be to just forget everything.

With this resolve, Hermione walked towards the Gryffindor table, ready to finally eat some breakfast. As she did so, her gaze drifted to the Head Table, and the sight of the Headmaster up there sparked the memory of the strange dark spirit she had encountered the night before, and she changed her course.

Everything else she would forget, but she had to report that creature to Professor Dumbledore.

And everything else she  _did_ try to forget, but days, weeks, months, and even years later, the events and the repercussions of that night occasionally crossed her mind. Sometimes she tried to repress them, but every so often, she relished the memories.


End file.
